There is a kind of life that some people lead. I imagine these people thinking about how lucky they are. How they couldn’t imagine living a different kind if life. In my head, these people live in wide open spaces, perhaps near mountains. They live close to the earth, away from cities. They work hard and play hard and get dirty and come home tired every day. To their warm, softly lit home. To eat a wholesome meal and sleep on their feather bed.
There was this ad at the gas station for something called Marlboro Southern Cut. Wide open mesa with mountains. I was still reeling from the Viagra commercial with the guy pulling his truck out of the mud with his horses. And there’s a calendar hanging in my cubicle with a picture of the Badlands. Sitting outside having lunch, the cool moist breeze felt like sitting seaside. Then I went back inside to spend a few hours printing and sorting and filing documents. I wanted to scream at my calendar.
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